To my grandmother, who always stood by my side, and to my mother, who loves me unconditionally, this write-up is dedicated to you both.
Throughout my life, I've been a relatively quiet person. I analyzed myself to see why I became this way. The possible answer is that in my childhood, there was no one who believed in me or my dreams except from my grandmother (actually, I want to use the word 'dismiss,' but I think it is too strong to say). My father was too harsh on me without reason, and my mother could not give me and my siblings the care we needed as children because she was struggling financially and trying to hold the family together so as not to fall apart. Knowing that my family was in financial trouble with unstable incomes, my father constantly scolded and hit me all the time (again, I know the word ‘abused’ is more accurate but I still do not have a harsh gut to say this to him), and always being dependent on extended families for help, my teenage years were nightmares – hopeless, trapped, and pessimistic. To protect myself from being dismissed or blamed by someone or receiving pitying looks from neighbors, I became used to staying quiet, keeping my thoughts to myself, and building my defense fence until I felt safe to disclose what I really feel, think and what I really want.
Growing up in this environment and experiencing this, I felt lonely and hesitant to speak my mind. I played it safe in life – using safe words and doing safe things because I had dealt with enough uncertainty. I barely trusted anyone because I always focused on protecting myself from the worst. This portrayal of myself stayed with me until I reached a point where I began to rediscover who I really was. In my 30s, working in more open workplaces and exploring a new culture and environment now, I realized that deep down, I wasn’t a quiet person. I enjoyed learning about other people’s lives, caring what people were going through, and sharing my own experiences – good and bad. However, I still somehow struggle with stepping out of my safe zone, taking initiative and voicing my opinions.
Another part of my struggle was the feeling that sharing my teeny-tiny success or thoughts wasn’t worthwhile, and nobody wanted to know it or hear it or cheer on me. This may come from years of believing that if I shared what I thought or wanted to do, others would dismiss me or not believe in me. Now, I realize that I spent too many years focused on what others thought of me instead of focusing on my true self and my being of best. It feels like I was a prisoner of my own mind for so long.
There are two moments that lightened me and helped me change my perspective. The first came after the second wave of COVID. I went back to my hometown, worked remotely and set up a work desk at my uncle’s house with the facilities provided by the office. One day, my family hosted a small memorial for my grandparents by inviting monks for donations and neighbors to share food. A neighbor’s young kid, around seven or eight years old, saw my work desk and asked his mother what it was for. She explained that it was where I worked, and that I had a good job at an embassy in the capital city. The boy asked his mom to meet me. When his mother introduced us, he asked me what I did with the computer and what my job was. He told me he wanted to have a job like mine one day. I told him to study properly and stay focused and curious. Coming from a small town with just over 3,000 population, where kids from lower and middle-class families have limited exposure to what they could achieve, this moment really humbled me. That boy may have seen doctors, engineers, and teachers but never seen before someone who worked with a computer every day and spoke English at work. It was incredibly sobering and honored to realize that by building my own life, I could help inspire someone else to dream bigger, to dream different.
The second moment, associated with that story, came from a colleague’s daughter, who had heard about me through her mother. In her essay applying for college, she wrote that my story helped her realize how one person’s life can inspire others and that motivated her to be that kind of person, too.
These two heartfelt experiences made me realize that trying to be who you are and discovering your authentic self can positively impact others, especially young people. These stories reaffirmed my belief that representation really matters. They helped me feel more liberated; I felt power in myself and no longer ashamed of my terrible childhood. I felt more willing to unlearn the trauma and relearn the healthier and happier way of life. I also felt a sense of responsibility to keep building my life because there may be some young people in my town who looked up to me – and it helps me hang in tight even when I face difficult circumstances.
Over the past decade, as a Communicator professionally, I have told stories of others. Many of them live in IDP camps and rural areas or are marginalized groups like women, the elderly, and children whose dreams and abilities are often overlooked and not valued – their voices are barely heard, and I told their stories in many channels on their behalf – for good – to lift each other up, to inspire and rely the resilience and energy on one another. I never saw myself as a story worth telling – never before. But now I do. For the first time in my life, I felt empowered by myself, and I felt worthy of myself.
This is my story. I am sharing it with you because I’m liberated from the past and ready for a way forward. I hope it helps you get through your day and gives you a little energy to keep believing in what you are doing. Keep the faith and keep going.
